


Coffee Stains

by rudygosia



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Awkward Flirting, F/F, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:47:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28647789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudygosia/pseuds/rudygosia
Summary: Working at a fashion magazine is both a dream come true and quite an annoyance… until Madison meets the real person behind one of the fashion Polaroids.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character





	Coffee Stains

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, thank you for checking out this original story! I hope you like it :-) You’re welcome to send comments, be it corrections or praise, haha! Important: the updates will be scarce (life’s busy), but I will definitely finish this story! 
> 
> And now, enjoy!

“Fucking assholes.”  
The hushed cuss escaped Madison’s mouth angrily as she looked at the clutter, scattered in a hurried mess. Old issues of Vogue, Elle, and other fashion magazines she had stacked so tediously only the previous day were now lying around in a horrible mess, some of them missing pages or pictures, cut out for some design reasons. Scraps of fabric, some still with needles and pins attached, were mixed up with the array of colorful ribbons, threads and buttons, undoubtedly trying to ambush her again with their pointy ends. Amidst the chaos, she also spotted some business cards and portfolio folders, all left in their own awe having clearly been passed between hands. She took in the view all at once, took it with a pinch of salt. “Screw this, I’m quitting,” the promise that she repeated almost daily died even before it left her mind, as she moved around and started to unclutter her workspace.

Because, in fact, Madison loved her job. She loved the big offices and the smell of the warehouse, the sound of sewing machines and the ever-flowing cursing of designers whirling around the rooms. The lightning speed that enveloped her every day suited her own quick style of work in a place that she had soon begun to call home. She was only the assistant, but by choice, as she loved the feeling of being needed, being the one indispensable element of their large well-oiled machine, the one element that helped to set every show and every issue of their magazine in motion. She blamed being the sixth child of two amazing but overworked parents solely for her natural neediness, as her family frequently forgot to pick her up from school or include her in daily family schedules, going as far as leaving her wandering around the mall one time.  
She loved her job, even though there were busy times and periods of craziness, Fashion Weeks and runway shows, sometimes hours of overtime and herds of annoying fashionistas she had to manage. There were times when she could feel the burden that came with being the go-to girl creep up her back until the pressure of whatever the agency was organizing died down and left her shoulders slumped for a few days. Occasionally, she pleaded to throw it all away, go back to university and finish her political science degree, but everyone around knew to take it with a wink, everyone knew Madison loved being part of their team. And, although maybe the current mess of the work room might have disproved it, they loved having her on board as well.

Sewing supplies quickly found their way onto their shelves and into drawers, magazines returned to file cabinets or the desk of the designer who used them to fuel their minds. She crouched down under the table, slowly gathering the littered portfolios and business cards. With no other task hovering over her, Madison flipped them open and perused the short descriptions and artsy photos, scanning the fashion choices, photographic poses, and beautiful faces. Out of the list of her responsibilities working with models was what she liked the least, she didn’t appreciate the arrogant attitude nor the vain looks nor the “I demand” philosophy. But the pictures - the pictures were something else, something that was able to hide all that common, egocentric mindset behind the frame, even if distorted a bit. The pictures created a parallel world, with images and colors and stories. The pictures, she liked.

Jumping from frame to frame, her eyes skimmed over a photo of a gorgeous redhead and even though she initially flipped the page over, she quickly returned to it, intrigued by the model. The woman in the picture was downright beautiful, photographed without too much make-up and fancy costume, which was quite unusual. There was something enticing in her casual, relaxed pose, evidently intended to present the low-cut jeans and intricate, colorful jacket. But it wasn’t the clothes that made Madison turn back the page, and even though incredibly sexy, it wasn’t the deep cleavage that peeked at her. It was that gorgeous shade of lively red and the model’s sharp green eyes, green eyes that seemed to bore into her in a way that said: “I can see you back, even though I’m just a picture.” Madison smiled a little thinking how crazy it sounded, but looked back at the picture and was surprised to almost see the lips on the picture curve into a smile. She looked around for any other photographs of the same girl, intrigued by her beauty, wanting to see more of her smile, wanting to see more of the green. She saw some photos sticking out of a portfolio folder, and also a stack of Polaroids strew on the carpet. Reaching ahead, she suddenly noted a pair of toned legs dressed in casual white Chucks walking into the room. A voice, unnoticed in the moments of green haze a second ago, became clearer as Madison became aware of her new company.  
“Oh, would you be so kind, as to fall in love with me” a female voice hummed quietly, oblivious to Madison hidden under the table as the owner, the owner of the melodic voice and those great legs, was getting closer to the work table.  
Surprised, Madison sprung up quickly in an attempt to make her presence known, only to hit the bottom of the table. A loud thud resonated in the room.  
“Fuck,” she got up from the floor, massaging the bump on her head, holding the portfolio folder under her arm, the stack of photos in hand. The humming stopped suddenly. Madison looked at the intruder and froze instantly, finding herself face to face with the emerald eyes she had been admiring on a Polaroid a second ago. The redhead stood on the other side of the table, only slightly surprised, a hint of a smile growing on her lips. The same inquisitive, gentle eyes, amused by the slapstick scene, focused on Madison, scanning her from head to toe, suddenly making her blush.  
“Hi?” the woman offered questioningly, taking an earbud out. The catchy song buzzed faintly as Madison remained silent, surprised and overwhelmed and flustered. “I think I got lost,” the model tried again, amused and not annoyed. “I’m looking for Ashley?”  
It took Madison another second to get her bearings. She bounced back from the awe the model inspired and shook her head slightly, throwing the photos on the table. The redhead followed her jumpy movements and her brow furrowed in a smug way, surely noticing her own portfolio, but her genuine smile didn’t falter. Only for a millisecond, Madison didn’t feel embarrassed.  
“Yeah, no, um, you got lost all right. She’s in changing. She’s in the changing rooms. Up there. Up there at the back,” she mentally slapped herself for her momentary incoherence. “What I mean is, she’s in the changing rooms, at the back of the studio. Just go down the hall, turn right and then right again. The sign says ‘Naked butts ahead’,” it was too late to bite her tongue. “It’s an inside joke.”  
“Right... Okay, thanks,” the smile still present, the model chuckled slightly and slowly turned around, eyes still focused on the fashion assistant. Mumbled “Would you be so kind as to fall in love with me” faded slowly behind closing doors. Madison let out a breath and made a mental note to check out the song later, right after she found her dignity.

\---

At 7 pm Madison was ready to say that her day had been, except for head crashes and celebrity crushes, rather uneventful. Just the usual chatter of fashion gurus, the mess of a workday, tending to photographers and so on. She managed to clean the work table, the studio, do all her daily chores, and still had time to submit the prints that the designers had created - all that with the memory of the earlier encounter. She smiled, looking at the Polaroid that one of the designers had pinned to their board for future reference.

Leaving the studio, she put her foot forward thinking about a particular shade of red and didn’t notice the other person passing. The collision was pretty ferocious, swaying her in the process and pushing the other person against the wall, spilling their to-go coffee all around them.  
“Fuck,” this time, the swearing wasn’t Madison‘s. “Do you all need to be a bunch of idiots?!!”  
Any other day Madison would have a great comeback at the tip of her tongue, ready to retaliate and defend her - clearly lost, but still - case, but as soon as her eyes landed on her victim, the words were lost altogether. This time, she froze, downright embarrassed and flustered with the situation and the interesting green eyes that kept looking at her, unfazed and confident. The redhead softened when her green eyes recognized the culprit.  
“I’m sorry,” she sighed, anger leaving her instantly. “It’s an inside joke?” she tried, smiling apologetically.  
“Ha, funny,” Madison murmured sheepishly and without thinking, tearing her gaze away from the model. The two women stood there, thrown into another surprise situation, looking at each other but somehow avoiding direct eye contact, for what felt like forever, until the model cast a glance at her ruined shirt and brushed the single droplets out.  
“I’m really sorry. But I guess you owe me a coffee now?” there was a hint of hope, a spark of playfulness, in her voice.


End file.
